


Jump On It, And Feel It.

by halelujah



Category: teen wolf - Fandom
Genre: Also the females in the pack are pervs, Established Pack, F/M, Frottage, Future Fic, Gay Bar, How the hell do I tag?, Kissing, M/M, Oh My God, What is this?, but not really, just saying
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-14
Updated: 2013-03-14
Packaged: 2017-12-05 07:32:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,783
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/720468
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/halelujah/pseuds/halelujah
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Derek knew grudgingly that the Pack needed this, needed an excuse to wind down and have fun, to be what they were; official adults, not soldiers. Especially after the recent witch incident. But that didn't mean he needed to watch Stiles shake his ass on the dance floor like it was his Goddamn job. </p><p>He knew he should have said no and stayed home, he fucking knew.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Jump On It, And Feel It.

**Author's Note:**

> Ah, hello! I'm new to the fan fiction world, so be gentle with me, it's my first time. Hah.  
> I debated with myself on whether or not to post this because after reading other fics based on Jeff Davis' Tumblr post about Stiles' ablity to shake it, I may have, slightly got intimidated. But, I thought screw it and did anyway. Just ignore the little tidbits about Davis saying that Isaac wouldn't step foot on a dance floor, Erica is still alive and Jackson is still in the Pack and as a werewolf.  
> This also may have gotten away from me when I found myself listening to Ginuwine's 'Pony', but hey, it's a good song when reading frottage stories, so enjoy? Hah.

Derek initially thought the worst that would come from being dragged unwillingly to Jungle was the groping from the scarce women that were lost in the crowd, gay men and oddly enough, the occasional drag queen. The blaring of the current top 40 song thumping in his ears coming in at a close second, bass pulsating through his chest and only adding to the headache raging between his temples. 

But no, no, no. He was wrong, _so_ wrong.

What took the cake, the fucking bakery more like, was the dancing figure on the dance floor, arms flung out above his head while his hips swayed from left to right.  
Derek swallowed painfully, throat clicking hard enough to make him wince, when said hips rolled back and forth to what he knew was Rihanna asking a rude boy if he could get it up, if he was big enough. Well, Derek could definitely get it up, no problems on that front. 

Derek knew grudgingly that the Pack needed this, needed an excuse to wind down and have fun, to be what they were; official adults, not soldiers. Especially after the recent witch incident. But that didn't mean he needed to watch Stiles shake his ass on the dance floor like it was his Goddamn job. 

He knew he should have said no and stayed home, he fucking knew. 

He growled lowly beneath his breathe when Erica, who had pulled Stiles into the crowd the minute they walked in, grinned saucily before creeping forward and winding an arm around his waist, bringing their chests flushed against one another.  
The rumble in his chest deepened when Isaac stepped up behind the dancing duo and plastered himself against Stiles' back and effectively making a Stilinski sandwich on the dance floor while Isaac's hands landed on his hips. 

Derek thought the honey eyed male would have been uncomfortable being pressed between two wolves who once was out for his blood, but by the way he tossed a cheeky smile over his shoulder at Isaac before slowly sliding down the length of his body told him otherwise. Ah, the effects of running for your life together brings everyone just that much closer. Like a Pack. He couldn’t help but smile at that. It had taken them three long years to get to where they were now.

"You might wanna let the cup go, bossman." 

Snapping to the left, his gaze tearing thankfully away from what Stiles' next dance move was going to be, he glanced up at Boyd's amused gaze. 

"What?"

He gestured down between his spread knees and he followed it to find his hand clenched around the hard plastic cup he forgot he had been holding. Well, what used to be a plastic cup, now it looked like a mangled mess. 

"What's got you squeezing innocent cups like they've mortally offended you?" Boyd questioned, sitting on the stool beside him at the bar. 

Unintentionally, his eyes slid back to where Stiles was dancing, now apparently by himself while Erica and Isaac were a tangle of limbs to the right. 

He had his back to both Derek and Boyd and the Alpha couldn't help but allow his gaze to travel from the tips of his newly grown out hair down to the heels of his Chuck Taylor's. 

Stiles' dancing wouldn't have been a problem - who was he trying to kid, of _course_ it would have - if he was just wearing his usual plaid shirt and baggy jeans combo. But not tonight. Lydia had made it all too clear that she would be dressing him, "because you look like a hobo, Stiles, and I refuse to be seen with you dressed like that," and Derek was torn between thanking her and crying on her shoulder at the injustice of it all. 

He wore a form fitted v neck shirt that displayed the wings of his collarbones at the front, clung to his arms and the definite lines of his toned stomach before just brushing against the belt loops of his jeans. If Derek thought the shirt was bad, than his jeans were fucking _obscene_.  
Like a second skin, they moulded to the long stretch of his legs, hugging firm thighs and cupping his ass just so. The very same ass that was indeed being shaken in front of him like he were a starving man at some type of all you can eat. 

God, now he sounded like the dirty version of Scott whenever he waxed poetic about Allison. Fuck Lydia. Seriously, watch if he willingly steps in front of a witch again for her. 

A chuckle brought him out of his internal meltdown but Derek didn't bother in removing his gaze. The man by his side already knew, so why hide it? "Fuck off, Boyd."

Before he could reply, almost as if he could feel Derek's eyes on his body, Stiles spun around on the balls of his feet and faced them, a smile in place. When realising that he was being watched, the smile turned into a small grin, bottom lip being pulled between his teeth as he gazed up from under his lashes. 

Was that a come hither sign?

"Wow," Boyd commented but Derek didn't hear what else he had to say. 

Especially when Stiles slowly danced back around again, hips doing small circles to the beat. He glanced over his shoulder and winked, lip still being bitten as he jerked his head at the Alpha. 

Yeah, that was definitely a come hither. 

Smirking, Derek stood and shucked off the leather jacket he wore, shoving it into a smug looking Boyd's awaiting arms before stepping into the crowd and making his way over. 

"Like what you see?" Stiles questioned, as Derek looped his arms around his waist, nose burying into the heated skin of his neck. 

Nipping at the pulse thrumming beneath his mouth, Derek hitched his hips forward, showing exactly just how much he liked what he saw. 

Spinning in his arms, he came face to face with whiskey eyes, sometimes a feral gold when the lights flashed down from the ceiling and full mouth that begged to be nibbled on. 

"My, what a big --" 

"You finish that sentence, and I'll show you how big it is." Derek interrupted, hands pushing the material of his shirt up so he could drag the tips of his fingers under his jeans. 

Stiles shuddered, grinding up into Derek once, his own hands scrabbling for purchase, which happened to be his shoulders. "Promise?" 

Growling at the sensation of something hard nudging against his hip, Derek shoved his thigh between Stiles' knees. Lips and teeth running along his jaw line, muffling the sounds coming from Stiles as he basically rode on his thigh. 

Derek was two seconds away from stripping Stiles down to his socks and having his wicked way with him right there and then. Being in a gay club, he was sure 90% of the inhabitants wouldn't mind so much, but the air of satisfaction coming from Boyd, kept him at bay. If only by a thread. 

Mouthing his way towards Stiles' lips, Derek thought maybe he could just pull him into a dark alley and --

He groaned when Stiles sucked his bottom lip into his mouth and bit and nipped, fingers digging into the flesh beneath his palms. Stiles let out a whimper and ground his pelvis further into Derek, arms snaking its way around his neck all the while kissing him hotly. 

Fuck. He needed a dark corner. Derek wasn't going to even make it to the exit. 

Pulling Stiles with him through the crowd, he managed to find a corner that was hidden and conveniently held a small couch. Oh, yes. It was as if God wanted this to happen too. 

Plopping down on it, Derek tugged on Stiles' arm until getting what he meant, straddled his thighs. Glancing up at him, he couldn’t help but grin slightly at how blown out Stiles’ pupils were, lips a luscious red from his brutal onslaught. He hummed in approval when Stiles licked into his mouth, fingers slipping into his hair and gripping tightly. 

Stiles let out a breathy laugh against his mouth and only then did Derek allow his senses to move pass the enticing smell of the man on his lap. The next song was playing, a song he knew very well from Erica obsessively watching Magic Mike on repeat. 

"Dance for me." Derek ordered if a little bit breathlessly, hands dragging his shirt up a few inches and pressing his thumbs into the grooves on his hips. 

"Mm, and how do you want me to do that?" He asked, bitten lips gliding over his stubbled jaw before teeth nipped at his earlobe.

"You decide."

"Do you want me to go fast?" Stiles questioned, grinding down hard and quick, grinning when he tensed beneath him with a muffled noise. "Or do you want me to go slow?"

"Fuck!" Derek groaned, hands tightening his grip as Stiles’ hips rolled forward languid and filthy, each roll slower than the last. 

Derek was pretty sure his eyes just crossed. Jesus fucking Christ, Stiles was going to kill him. 

"Didn't answer my question, Derek." He murmured, keeping the unhurried rhythm, occasionally changing the tempo and making him whimper. Like some new born pup. Ugh, what even is his life?

Leaning forward, Derek licked a heated line up the long arch of Stiles’ throat, sucking on the freckles that danced over pale flesh. "If you don't want me to pin you to this couch and take you apart slowly, I suggest you get this started."

He felt more than saw Stiles shiver, rhythm faltering for a second before picking up the pace, each roll emphasising the bass playing in the background of Ginuwine’s _Pony_.

Hail Mother Mary, Jesus, Odin and Allah. He was going to come in his pants if he kept that speed. Derek was still trying to figure out if that was a bad thing or not, but higher brain functions had bled out from his ears the second Stiles licked into his mouth, and he was so not in the state of mind to do the pros and cons of the situation.

Spreading his knees, Stiles leant forward and brought their chests together, the hard length of him pressing firmly into his stomach. "Not -- not gonna last," he panted, voice cracking at the end with a whimper when Derek surged forward and latched his teeth over the rapid beat of his pulse.

A rumble echoed in his chest as Stiles threaded slim fingers through his hair and yanked back, lips sliding over his in open mouthed kisses, both their hips going frantic.

"Derek, Der - I'm gonna, gonna come."

Using what Stiles dubbed 'Wolfie strength', Derek pulled him sideways before pushing him onto his back, hitching his legs up around his waist and thrusting forward hard, once, twice before swallowing the high pitched whines tumbling from Stiles mouth. 

"Come on, Derek," Stiles slurred, arms wrapping around his neck to suck and nip on the underside of his jaw line, tip of his tongue skimming over stubble. "Let me feel you come."

Shuddering violently, Derek tightened his hold and continued rolling his hips until coming with a low snarl, Stiles‘ name on his lips. Slowly, Derek's mind rebooted, a voice he knew in the back of his mind as Laura's, berating him for getting off in a club. Eh, what the fuck ever. What can you do?

"Ugh, these pants are too tight to be walking around with after going to my happy place."

Derek snorted before moving back to straddle Stiles’ thighs, bones feeling like jelly. "You‘re an idiot.”

"Don't judge me," Stiles muttered, glaring through half lidded eyes, body completely compliant under his weight. "Why are you judging me?"

“Because I basically had sex with a person who calls having an orgasm _going to his happy place._ ” Derek answered, grinning at how completely debauched and wrecked he looked. He knew he didn’t look any better, what with the hair pulling. Not that he was complaining. Not at all. “I’d call you a moron but that’s insulting the morons all over the world.”

“I’d tell you to get fucked, but ah, too late.” Stiles smirked, laughing loudly when Derek let out a mock growl and captured his lips in a heated kiss.

He lost time then, all of his senses just zeroing in on the body beneath his, the heart racing under his palm and the mouth sliding lazily over his own. So much so that he didn’t even feel anyone coming over to them until the very last second.

“Are you fucking serious?!”

Snapping back, Derek glanced over to find the Pack there, various expressions playing on their faces. Both Scott and Jackson looking affronted - most probably from the scents of come and arousal in the air -, Scott a little more surprised, ever the clueless little puppy. Boyd had a look of indifference on his face, like he already lost interest in the new novelty toy he was given, though Derek could see his lips upturned, if only slightly. Isaac and Allison were grinning from ear to ear and Lydia was smirking, eyes tracing over his and Stiles’ sprawled position on the couch. He could hear her mind saying ‘ _about freaking time_ ’ from all the way over here.

Though the most surprising and funniest was Erica, who was for the love of all that is Holy, pouting. _Pouting._ “You guys suck! And I don’t mean that literally, so shut it, Stiles.”

From the corner of his eye, Derek saw Stiles’ mouth close. “Ah, why is that?”

Like a five year old, she stamped a booted heel on the ground, “Because I wanted to _watch!_ "

Scott let out a pathetic whimper and Allison placated him with a loving kiss pressed to his jaw, though she and Lydia both nodded their heads in agreement. Jackson sneered and everyone else laughed, Stiles the loudest as he pushed Derek up off of him.

“Maybe next time Erica,” he promised, with a wink before wrapping an arm around her shoulders and tugging her towards the exit.

Ah, what?

“And who said there was gonna be a next time?” Derek questioned, following after the Pack as they exited and walked into the car park. He let out a sigh of relief as the near silence of Beacon Hills soothed his sensitive ears and the night chill caressed his heated skin.

“Hey, I’ve felt what you’re packing, Mr. Alpha,” Stiles spoke, spinning on the balls of his feet, bitten lips pulling into a grin. “And I now need to taste it.”

Derek swallowed thickly as he stopped between the Jeep and his Camaro. That shouldn’t be as hot as his mind and body takes it to be, but it totally is.

“Stiles!” Jackson snapped, pausing by his silver Porsche, “I do _not_ need to know that!”

“I do.” Three females voiced, heads tilted to the side as their gazes were locked to his, well, his crotch.

He resisted against the urge to cover himself with his hands. Or his leather jacket still held in Boyd’s hands. Derek glanced to the right. Maybe he should just stand behind the Beta.

“Allison!” Scott groaned, sounding completely betrayed, hitting her with wounded eyes.

Lydia rolled her own as the huntress hugged Scott before bidding them a goodnight, Jackson following suite with a nod of his head as he slid into the driver’s seat.

Stiles threw Isaac the keys to his jeep, “Take everyone home and crash at my house.” He said, when getting a confused look from the curly haired werewolf.

“Why can’t you drive them home?” He questioned, already making his way to the car, Boyd, Allison and Scott trailing after him.

“I think I’m gonna be busy.” 

He and Boyd gave amused looks at each other. Derek chose to ignore them.

“Go home, you two.” Erica’s ordered playfully over her shoulder as she walked away, heels clicking as she went. “You smell like a brothel.”

“And how would you know what that smells like?” Stiles yelled after her, answering laughter trickling back at them as they stood face to face.

“I’m looking for a partner.” Derek spoke minutes after he knew the Pack were out of earshot.

“Someone who knows how to ride?” Stiles asked, eyebrow raised and a knowing look gracing his face.

“Definitely,” He answered, crowding him against the Camaro. “Without even falling off.”

Stiles gave him an impish smile that was all teeth, one that sent shivers down his spine.

“I think I can find someone.” He whispered, sealing his mouth over his.


End file.
